Amish Country Murder. Mary Alford

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      Sutter stopped writing. “You mean like cigarette smoke?”

      “No, more like wood smoke.” She stopped for a breath. “And there was a dog. It started barking whenever the man returned…” She didn’t finish. Didn’t need to. He understood that’s when the torture would begin.

      “Do you recall how many days you were in the basement?”

      Placing a hand against her temple, Catherine closed her eyes for a moment. “I think one, but it’s all a blur. I was in and out of consciousness.”

      If she’d been gone for more than a day, why hadn’t someone reported her missing by now?

      Sutter jotted down her answer. “What happened earlier? How did you manage to escape?”

      She straightened her back. “I would not be alive now if it weren’t for Divine intervention,” she said with conviction, and stared into space as she started recounting the events. Sutter admired her faith. At one time, his had been as strong.

      “I heard him pulling into the garage. He came down to the basement and I knew what was coming.” She shuddered visibly.

      Sutter listening intently as she described how she’d tried to free the rope from her ankle but wasn’t able to. Finding the knife had saved her.

      Catherine stopped to gather breath.

      “I know this is difficult, but you’re doing great,” he assured her. “How long do you think you were in the car?”

      Her forehead wrinkled. “I’m not sure. I woke up before he stopped. When he opened the trunk, I kicked him as hard as I could and ran.”

      And then the killer had shot her. She’d almost died.

      Sutter closed the pad. “Do you know where you were when he took you?”

      Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t remember anything from before I woke up in that basement…” Her voice broke into a sob.

      In an instant, Sutter’s sinking feeling morphed into distress. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through, not knowing who she was.

      “Dr. Rolland believes your loss of memory is due to the blow to the head and will clear up in time.” Sutter hoped to sound convincing, but he was really worried. For her. For the next victim. “Why don’t I get the doctor for you.” He stepped out into the hall to search for the doctor and spotted him coming his way.

      “Is Catherine okay?” Dr. Rolland asked, correctly reading Sutter’s reaction.

      “She’s pretty upset about her loss of memory.”

      “That’s understandable. Let me examine Catherine further and then I’ll speak with you again.” With a pat on Sutter’s shoulder, he went inside.

      Running a hand across his eyes in frustration, Sutter paced the hallway in front of her door.

      None of the other victims had been struck in the head. Why Catherine? Had she fought back?

      When the doctor came back out a short time later, Sutter hurried over to him. “Is she okay?” he asked.

      Dr. Rolland nodded. “I believe so. In time, with rest and a safe environment, Catherine’s memories will return. She was pretty keyed up, so I gave her something to help her sleep. I’ll check back in a little while. In the meantime, I’m sure she’d appreciate a friendly face when she wakes.” He smiled before heading down the hall.

      Sutter slipped back inside Catherine’s room. Her eyes were closed. Though she appeared at peace, he understood how difficult the road ahead would be for her.

      He snapped a photo of her and sent it to Sheriff Collins to have him show it around the area. Hopefully, someone would recognize Catherine soon.

      Too restless to sit, Sutter moved to the window and stared out as a perfect spring morning dawned. The mountains in the distance drew him in. He’d worked in lots of different locations, but here in the wild Montana countryside, he felt God’s presence. It made him wish he didn’t have doubts. And anger.

      The things Catherine had said rattled around in his head. She believed God had brought her out of the Dead of Night Killer’s clutches. The mention of God suggested she was religious. He’d have Sheriff Collins ask around at the local churches. Maybe someone would remember her there.

      A whisper of a sound came from the woman in the bed. Who was she? How had the villain managed to take her? And more importantly, why hadn’t someone reported her missing by now?

      Dr. Rolland had said she came in dressed in jeans and a tattered white T-shirt, her feet bare. The doctor believed she’d been in good health before her capture.

      Each minute that passed without them being able to identify the killer reminded Sutter that the Dead of Night Killer was out there somewhere, probably trolling for his next victim.

      Outside the room, an unusual amount of activity seemed to be taking place. A sense of unease sped up Sutter’s spine. He opened the door and glanced around. The nurses’ station appeared to be abandoned, while a crowd of medical personnel had gathered near one of the rooms down the hall.

      He craned his neck to see what was happening, and fear took control when he spotted what was causing the commotion. Smoke billowed from inside the room. A fire. In his heart, he didn’t believe it was an accident.

      A sound sent him whirling, in time to find a man in green scrubs and a medical mask nearly on top of him. Something jabbed into his neck. He reached for it and yanked it out. A syringe. Trying to process what was taking place, Sutter grabbed for the man. The world swam before his eyes and his legs buckled.

      He was vaguely aware of being shoved into the room, then tossed across it, hitting the floor hard. Catherine. He needed to protect her, but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. Sutter tried to stand. Fell back, his legs jelly. Soon, his thoughts began to fade.

      The last coherent one was that the killer had tracked her to the hospital, determined to finish the job. Sutter had promised to protect her and was now powerless to do so.

       TWO

      Catherine’s eyes flew open. Panicked, she scanned the room. Something woke her, but she wasn’t sure what. Sunlight streamed in. The hospital… She was in the hospital. Next to the window, something lay crumpled on the floor. A man. She recognized him. It was the FBI agent she’d spoken to earlier. He wasn’t moving.

      Her heartbeat accelerated. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement nearby. Someone else was in the room. She jerked toward the person just as a pillow was shoved over her face, cutting off her oxygen.

      He’d found her again.

      Catherine tried to scream. No sound came out. Not like this. She wouldn’t die like this. Not without fighting him all the way. With her limbs flailing, she grabbed for her attacker’s arms, frantic to save her life. Scratching and clawing, she fought with all her fading strength.

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